Silver Wells
by Kiarene
Summary: Nagi loses something important. Sap. (What was I on??) Happy ending. One-shot.


Author:             Kiarene

Published:             15th August 2003

Summary:             Nagi loses something important. Sap. (What was I on??)

Timeline:             Schwarz is still working for Taketori and had encountered Weiss.

Warnings:         None really, coz I don't warn against language. Any shonen-ai hints are purely coincidental. Some stuff, like Farf's "hurting God" wisecracks, are fanon so I apologize to the purists in advance.

Disclaimer:             Don't own Weiß Kreuz … *mutters very softly and reluctantly* and Schwarz as well…

Archive?             Please ask first

Thoughts in italics 

::Telepathic communication::

Silver Wells 

Nagi awoke, squinting against a pounding headache. For a moment, he was disoriented, and then he realized that he was in his room back in the Schwarz penthouse.

"Ah, sleeping bishounen finally wakes up."

Nagi turned his head at the gravelly tone, pinched scowl on his face as he croaked grumpily. "Dammit Schu, don't call me that! And don't put your feet on my stuff!" 

The redheaded German swung his legs gracefully off the study desk, neatly avoiding a stack of textbooks and mangas, and stood up. "Ach, is that any way to greet someone who's been worried and sitting up all night for you?" 

Nagi snorted, and then winced as a lance of pain struck his brain. Schuldig was about to make another sarcastic remark, but closed his mouth again, a hint of empathy in his eyes. The telepath had suffered enough headaches to be sympathetic; it was a common problem for those with extra mental abilities. Instead, he picked up a glass of water and a bottle of pills from the table, and walked over. "Sit up and take this."

The teenager did so; glad that Schuldig decided to lay off his constant teasing. He knew the loud-mouthed German wasn't intentionally malicious, at least not to his colleague within Schwarz, but he didn't feel up to Schuldig's teasing this morning. Gratefully, he accepted the water and Schuldig's own brand of extra-strong aspirin – or at least he hope it was aspirin – before swallowing three quickly and washing them down. 

Schuldig settled himself at the foot of the narrow indigo-sheeted bed, one leg tucked in casually as he drawled lazily. "So, what do you remember from last night's mission kid? Debrief."

Nagi closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard, willing the pills to kick in as he answered slowly. "The target was leaving the casino with three bodyguards. The bodyguards were very professional, something that was missing from our mission specs. I threw one back against a wall and snapped his neck, I don't remember seeing you or Farfarello but I remember seeing Brad shoot the target… Then, I felt a pain at the back of my head…?" 

Schuldig rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the guy I shot managed to squeeze out a bullet before he croaked. Luckily, the bullet only grazed the back of your head. Farfarello picked you up, and then we came home and patched you up. Fairly simple mission, though you required a couple of stitches. No concussion, fortunately." 

Nagi fingered the back of his head lightly as he listened to the older man rant on. A couple of stitches? He suspected that it was a lot more than that. His head was neatly wrapped, a tight elastic bandage going from the base of his skull and over his forehead. He had also been stripped of his dark working clothes and was now dressed in a worn T-shirt and loose boxers; probably Schuldig had done it for him. 

They've been injured often enough that they've gotten pretty adept at fixing each other up; it was much easier than going through the tedious paperwork in the public hospitals. Farfarello had been pretty badly sliced up once – sometimes his lack of pain created more trouble than it was useful – and they had to rush him to emergency. Schuldig had to fuzz out the surgeons' and nurses' memories after the Irish was discharged a week later, and Nagi had spent an entire afternoon making sure he had falsified all the records. 

"Dammit Nagi, you know you're not as fast as the rest of us. I thought Brad told you to stay back. The three of us can handle the target easily. Your job was done; you didn't have to leap into the fray…"

"I didn't realize there was still one guard," The brunette grumbled sulkily; the young genius didn't like to be reminded that he had made a mistake. His head was still hurting, but the painkiller had finally kicked in and it was now just a dull throb. He swung his legs off the bed, intending to go to his bathroom and escape the redhead's scolding, but the sudden movement caused a wave of dizziness and he stumbled forward. 

As his dove-gray carpet rushed up to meet him, he concentrated, reaching out with his powers to stop his fall…

But nothing happened. 

At least nothing he wanted, happened. Instead, a pair of strong arms caught him and pulled him upright; the German's abnormal speed and fast reflexes saving him from further injury. "Shit Nagi! What the fuck do you think you're doing? I've already wrapped your thick skull, I'm not going to set a broken nose too…"

Schuldig trailed off when he realized something was off. The telepath wasn't actively probing, but he could practically feel the waves of distress radiating from the slim boy in his arms. Nagi sat back down on his bed heavily, his hands held out in front of him. 

"What's wrong?"

"My powers!" Nagi waved his hands frantically as he tried to levitate a book on his desk, the alarm clock beside his bed, anything! But where there was once a silvery well that hummed with energy in his mind, something he had never really thought much about, just somewhere he _reached_ for when he needed to use his powers…there was only a dull, blank wall. 

"I can't… They're gone!" His voice rose in a panicked babble with the horrified realization. "Schu, I can't ..I can't feel it in my mind, it's always been there but now it's not!" 

"Saa… Don't get so worked up," Schuldig was at a loss as he tried to calm the hysterical teenager, one hand patting ineffectually at the younger's shoulder. Comforting anyone was not Schuldig's forte. Drawn by the screams, Crawford burst into the room, Farfarello a calm step behind. 

"Nagi?"

Suddenly confronted with the stern visage of the Swartz leader, the youngest member of the assassin team realized just devastating the loss of his powers could be and blanched. If Crawford found out that he couldn't use his telekinetic powers anymore, what use was he then to the team? He couldn't tell Crawford… No, no… he couldn't have lost his gift! 

_And denial's a river in Egypt! _Nagi thought hysterically. He *knew* he couldn't access his powers; normally things around him would be rattling in his current emotional state. He could sense something missing, a vital part of him, and the absence of it was causing a dull, dead ache. 

Yet, he couldn't keep quiet either; he'll endanger their missions and Crawford would be furious when he found out. _Maybe it'll come back…_

Nagi chocked back a strangled sob; Crawford would find out long before the next mission anyway and it was his responsibility as a team member to inform their leader of anything that might hinder their performance. He used his powers openly and casually in his everyday life to help him in little hundred and one ways; it was something so natural and something he had taken for granted, like the way he tried to catch himself from falling…  

Crawford glared down at the white-faced teenager and crossed his arms. "Well?" He was certain something was terribly wrong. Nagi was normally calm and serious, not easily prone to emotional outbursts.  

"I.. There's… w..well… " The youngest assassin's eyes flickered between the stern American's and the floor as he stuttered. Suddenly, he felt a burst of reassurance from the red-haired telepath and glanced up at concerned green eyes in astonishment.   

::Schu?:: Nagi was floored. The caustic German was never this solicitous of his feelings. 

::Just tell him. He needs to know.::

::But he'll get mad and kick me out of Schwarz because I'm useless now and…:: He started to panic again as he recalled unhappy memories of being out in the streets before Crawford picked him up. He wasn't as helpless now, but where could a 15-year old kid go? 

::You're not useless!:: 

Taken aback by the uncharacteristic fierceness and burst of concern through the telepathic link, Nagi fell silent and looked back up at a visibly puzzled and very annoyed Crawford. The precognitive American knew they were somehow conversing mentally and *hated* to be kept in the dark. 

::Now go on, kid.:: ****

Steeling himself for anger and rejection, the young telekinetic explained in a steady voice the loss of his powers as he would any mission report. Only an undercurrent of pain and loss in his normally dead-sounding soft tone revealed to the older psychics just how affected the youngest assassin was. 

"Are you sure about this? Or perhaps you've a concussion and you can't focus your powers?" Crawford asked finally, lips pursed tightly. "You said you've a bad headache right now." 

"No concussion," Schuldig confirmed quietly. "I checked."

Nagi shook his head unhappily. "I've had headaches before and I can access my powers just fine. There's this …*well* that's missing, I can't really explain it… this place where I go to tap when I need my powers. It's like a part of my mind is walled up…" 

A heavy silence fell over the boy's bedroom. Crawford remained impassive, arms crossed and eyes half-closed as he considered the situation. Schuldig was thinking hard too, worrying his lip and tugging at an errant carrot lock. Farfarello was just …Farfarello. The albino Irish had not said a word as he stood in the doorway, unconcernedly playing with his needle.

Nagi looked down at his carpet again, dread growing as he waited for the team leader's judgment. Schwarz had no place for a useless assassin; without his powers, he was just a frail 15-year old boy. He had killed before, but not with firearms. He wasn't as good as the others in combat and he would just be a hindrance to them. Sure, he did have his computer hacking skills and he was one of the best, but Esset could probably send another psychic hacker. What made Schwarz an elite assassin team were their special abilities. Ordinary killers abound, but Schwarz was different, special.

Finally, he couldn't take the suspense anymore and ventured timidly, "Crawford? Are you... are you going to get rid of me now?"

"Schist!" Schuldig swore, placing a hand on the startled boy's shoulder. "We're not going to do anything like that! You're Schwarz, we don't simply off our teammates just because they got injured!" 

"But..but… I'm not just injured; I may not recover my powers…" 

"We're not going to just let you go! Aren't we, Brad?" The redhead turned to their taciturn leader with a meaningful growl. "We are cold-blooded bastards but we take care of our own."  

Crawford nodded, thin lips quirking slightly at the hot-tempered German's protectiveness.

"See? Even Brad says so." Schuldig patted Nagi reassuringly. "And besides, your telekinetic powers aren't the only thing you're good at. You can still mind-fuck computers."

"Hacking, Schu. It's called hacking." The dark-haired teen smiled in spite of himself. He actually found the brash German's flippant terms rather amusing, even the annoying nicknames. Sometimes. Then his face fell again. "But what if you need my telekinetic powers?"

"We're not that useless," Schuldig sneered, rolling his eyes in disdain. "I'm sure the three of us – fully-grown, experienced assassins with psychic abilities of our own – can manage."

"Ano…" Nagi blinked, seeing his teammate's sarcasm for what it really was – an attempt to reassure him. _Thanks, Schu._

::I mean it kid!:: An affronted snort as the telepath picked up the boy's thought even though it wasn't actually directed at him.  

"What if I never recover? What if I…" ..._stay normal?_ That was his unspoken fear. 

If he wasn't so distressed, Nagi might have found the irony amusing. Perhaps he might have wished for a normal life like other kids his age, perhaps he might had not wanted to be a hired killer, but he had *never* wanted to be *normal* like the rest of society. He had lived on the streets before Crawford had found him, and the small-sized boy had been abused and bullied before the two older psychics taught him how to control his power. Now nobody touched him without his permission again, nobody pushed him around. 

More so than that, using his telekinesis had became second nature to him. Whether it was shielding himself from fatal injury when he was on a mission or simply floating the butter across the table during breakfast, he *couldn't* imagine living without his power. It was as natural to him as breathing and walking; his telekinesis was another part of his body, an integral part of him.

::We know kiddo, we know.:: Schuldig's mental voice came over, raspy and slightly nasal and yet soothing. If the redhead wanted, telepathy could convey much more than just simple spoken words. A wave of understanding and concern burst into his mind, showing him that the German *did* know how he felt. 

Nagi gave a small wan smile up at the older psychic. _I guess I shouldn't be surprised; Schu's got special abilities too._ In a small voice, he asked the final question that had been worrying him. "What about Esset?"

"We can't tell them," Schuldig said firmly. 

Crawford nodded again. "I agree. For your safety, we'll just have to hide the loss of your powers from them."

"Forever?" Nagi whispered in despair. "How could I?"

Schuldig and Crawford exchanged a frown. 

"For as long as we can."

"Until we proved that you are just as useful, even without your powers." The dark-haired American gave a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "You are vital to Schwarz, Nagi. I've worked with other hackers before, but none were as good as you and you're only fifteen. That alone should assure your place remaining in Schwarz; you have *proven*yourself. But we will keep it from Esset as long as we can." 

Nagi flushed happily with the rare praise and ducked his head. 

"Right then, it's settled!" Schuldig leapt up, grinning gleefully. "And to cheer our little Nagi-kins up, let's all go our for breakfast! And shopping later!" 

"Shopping cheers *you* up." Crawford shot the carrot-topped bundle of energy a sour look as the two walked out, but he did not disagree with the suggestion for going out. 

"So it will cheer up little Nagi-kins too!" 

"Idiot."

As Nagi stood up and rummaged around his closet for jeans and a sweater, Farfarello stepped beside him and gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. "Don't worry kid."

"Hai." Nagi felt a bit better, knowing that his teammates cared, even if they really couldn't do anything to help him. 

**~**

The next few days were hell. 

Nagi hadn't realized *just* how much he was dependent on his telekinetic powers. He was too small and thin for his age and while he was reasonably fit – he *was* an active member on their missions after all and ran around almost as much as the other guys even if he usually wasn't in the thick of action – he often made use of his powers to offset his size disadvantage.  

Raising himself on the balls of his feet as high as he could, the vertically challenged teenager cursed the idiot who put the cereal box up on the top shelf. His morning was *not* going well. Already, he had woken with a mild headache, banged his wrist while reaching blinding for a face-towel in the bathroom – when he would have normally floated it to him – and now this. He was *not* going to get a chair; the elusive yellow box of sugared puffed corn was only an inch away… or maybe three… 

"Why didn't you just get a chair?" 

Nagi tinted in embarrassment as a lanky arm pulled the cereal box down easily and plunked it on the table. "I was going to reach it!" 

Schuldig snickered as he crossed the kitchen to the espresso maker and Nagi's flush deepened. Sitting down with a scowl, he poured the cereal into a bowl. "Anyway, whose stupid idea was it to keep the cereal up there?"

A crunching whirr filled the spacious well-appointed kitchen – working for Esset had its privileges – with the fragrant aroma of freshly ground coffee. Sunlight streamed in on the homely scene. 

Crawford had probably left the apartment. In addition to the stuff he did for Esset, the precognitive liked to dabble in stocks and shares, and usually scheduled such meetings with his broker in the early mornings so as to be able to convey his instructions before the markets opened. Farfarello was still sleeping in; that man looked and had the nocturnal habits of a vampire. With his strange fascination for blood, Nagi wouldn't be surprised if Farf really were a vampire. 

Schuldig gave a jaw-cracking yawn, pushing his hair out of his face as he took out two cups. The German's shaggy mane exemplified the term 'bed-hair'; his crimson spiky shock of hair looked as if he had plugged into a socket.

"Because Farf plus sugar equals very bad, therefore all sweet stuff is to be placed away." 

Nagi sighed, his mood darkening further because Schuldig was right. "…"

"Are you going to school today kid?" 

"Yeah. I've already skipped yesterday and my teacher's been complaining that I've been missing too many days." The only school-going member of the assassin team often had to skip classes for missions, and while he usually came in at the top of his class and Crawford; his legal guardian, would turn a deaf ear to the principal's complaints, he didn't want to antagonize his teachers *too*much.

Schuldig shot him a sharp look as he seated himself opposite the table, sliding one of the two cups of coffee to him across the wooden surface. "And your head?"

"I'm fine," Nagi lied. He still had a slight headache, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He didn't want to hang around the penthouse and mope. Perhaps going to school, no matter how irritating it was, would take his mind off the loss of his problems. 

"All right, if you say so. I'll send you to school today." Schuldig ignored the look of surprise on Nagi's face. "Give me a call on my cell and I'll pick you up after school as well; I don't want you taking the public transport just yet." 

::Because my powers are gone and I might not be able to protect myself, right?:: Nagi grimaced sourly. He usually had to badger Schuldig to give him a lift; often he simply took the train. 

::Ah, I was just worried about your injury that all.:: A lame mental laugh. ::Don't want you to faint along the way.::

_Shimatta. _Nagi stabbed his helpless cereal savagely. 

**~**

Nagi stood in his bedroom, glowering at a stack of his textbooks, trying to lift them by sheer will alone. Usually, that wasn't a problem at all. In fact, he's lifted far heavier stuff, including Schuldig's precious Porsche. The German was yelling and swearing at him the whole time, but not too loudly; he didn't want the telekinetic to lose concentration and drop his car after all. He wasn't so dumb as to try it with Crawford's BMW of course. Some things were just not done, and messing around with Brad Crawford was one of them.

But today the books remained firmly planted to terra firma. 

He punched the wall with a whine of frustration and sank back into his chair, rubbing at his temples. His headache wasn't helping any as well; he's been having a low throbbing pain that feels like there's a tight band constricting the front and sides of his brain. The pain had been subsiding slowly but steadily, though it flared up occasionally. Usually when he tried to exert his telekinetic gifts, like now. 

He wished he understood more about his powers. He had read what he could about the subject, but this wasn't a topic that could be easily found either in a book or online. Most writers of such books were fakes anyway and hence the information out there was either wrong or insufficient, as psychics are wary about letting others know about their gifts. Or curses; depending on how they looked at it. The only way to really know was either through careful study of one's own powers, or by learning from a more experienced psychic. 

The only experienced psychics he had encountered were at Rosenkreuz and he had been extremely wary of trusting anybody there. On Crawford's advice, he had played down his strength of his powers so that he could be assigned to Crawford's team – a field team, where members were deemed more expendable – and not be confined to the headquarters. 

And so, while he had been trained in the fundamentals like shielding and fine focus, he hadn't truly understood *just* how his gift worked. It had always been there since it was awoken when he neared puberty and he never had to strain to use it, taking it for granted. 

Nagi gave a scream. And then he kicked the stack of textbooks over in a fine display of a teenage tantrum.  

"Ye all right, kid?' Farfarello stuck his head in, a look of mild concern on his face. "Problems with homework? How was your Genetics test?" 

"Yeah, I'm ok." Nagi forced a small smile. "It went fine, no problem there." 

"Good. Because if I had wasted two afternoons drilling ye in Genetics, I would be forced to hurt you." 

Nagi laughed at that, his previous frustrated tension draining out of him. Farfarello could always make him laugh with his literal statements, deadpanned with an Irish lilt. Contrary to many people's belief, Farfarello was not stupid at all. Cruel, insane – some days more than others – but definitely not stupid. And yet, in a way that was so Farfarello, the Irish was loyal to Schwarz. Others might cringe from the scarred, yellow-eyed man but Nagi implicitly trusted Farfarello.  

The Irish assassin read widely; he did spend a lot of time in his padded room with little to occupy his time. Books weren't sharp, and biology happened to be one of his favorite subjects. Nagi remembered Farfarello's droll expression when he explained that anatomy was something directly connected to their line of work. 

And that evolution theory *seriously* hurt God. 

"Lunch will be ready soon." Farfarello was a surprisingly good cook as well; maybe it was the knives. Watching him slice and twirl his knives in the kitchen was like watching a virtuoso performance. Schwarz was all too happy to let him cook but the other three members insisted firmly that he *not* lick the knives when preparing food though. 

"You're trying too hard." 

To Nagi's surprise, Farfarello had not moved from the doorway. "Nani?"

"Just let it be, ye can't force it. It's a gift and it's yours." The Irish was smiling serenely now. He swung between two extremes in temperament, and right now he looked as calm as a Zen monk dispatching religious teachings while holding a soup ladle.

"Go call the others for lunch." And with that final advice, Farfarello turned and left. 

The dark-haired boy stared at the opened doorway, gaping and flummoxed, books forgotten. _Farf …almost sounded like … but this is Farf; he's not a clairvoyant… wait, Schwarz is a psychic team… but Farf isn't known… wait, but Farf is also certified nuts and… arrrrrgh!  _

**~**

Nagi pushed away from his computer and rolled his wrists with a groan. He had finally finished his chemistry lab report. While he could type fast, it was much faster with his telekinesis as he wasn't only restricted to two hands.

He flicked and shook his hands mournfully. _I'm going to get carpal tunnel at this rate._

Hearing the clacking of keyboard stop, Schuldig rapped the teenager's bedroom door. "Get dressed Nagi. Dinner at some swanky place tonight." 

"Hai, hai." Nagi was about to pull out a pair of jeans but changed his mind and chose a pair of smartly pressed khakis instead. They ate out every night – Esstet *really* paid well, even without Crawford's talent for stocks – and a good day for Farfarello meant a swankier dinner for the group. Even though Farfarello was a great cook and usually whipped up their lunches, the Irish had firmly declared that he wouldn't do dinners. He would do ramen, cookies or traditional mochi, but he wouldn't do dinners.

"Dinners don't hurt God, and so I don't do dinners." 

Farfarello had that unsettling gleam in his eye as he made that statement, while the other three assassins gaped in disbelief. Schuldig's mental question ::And lunches do?!:: almost set them laughing, but they managed to keep a straight face around the unpredictable Irish. One tried not too hard to analyze Farfarello and his motivations; brains might explode. The Irish frequently defied logic and even Schuldig usually left the deep and twisted workings of his mind alone. 

Crawford had simply pushed his glasses up and nodded at Farfarello. Thus, they ate out every night.  

"Brad has some stuff for you to look into after dinner." The door opened and the German telepath sauntered in, already dressed in his usual snazzy outfit of white pants and green trench top. 

"And here I was just thinking I'm going to end up with RSI," Nagi sighed, buttoning his white shirt. 

"You hurt your wrists during the last mission?" Schuldig asked, a touch of worry in his tone. 

Nagi blinked, fingers pausing at the top button. The German had been treating him differently since he lost his powers, less taunting and more thoughtful. He still teased the introverted teenager whenever he could, but it was less caustic. 

"Leave the top button," Schuldig slapped his hand away lightly, grinning. "You always look so straight-laced and stiff; you've no sense of style."

"No, I didn't hurt my wrists. It's just that I'm used to typing so much," Nagi replied, frowning slightly but he left the top button, not in a mood to argue with Schuldig. He spent hours on his computer everyday, alternating between using his hands and telekinesis. His dismal mood fell further. 'Guess I have to get used to this now…'

"So did Brad want me to do?"

"At least this isn't related to Taketori." Their employer's name was spoken with distaste; none of Schwarz liked the manipulative businessman but a job was a job and they *were* professionals. Their presence as his bodyguards were only required at functions and other public events and thankfully they were not required to live with him. The bodyguard duties were the official job they filed when they reported to Esset. Unofficially, Schwarz had its own agenda.

"Someone's keeping information on important political figures and blackmailing them. Crawford doesn't care about the victims – it's their own fault for being so stupid anyway – but he wants that information. We have a few suspects and he wants you to hack into their files, see if which is really the one we're after. If your wrists hurts, just tell Crawford you'll do it tomorrow," Schuldig cautioned. Picking up the teenager's right hand, he rubbed his thumb over the thin wrist thoughtfully. "Shit Nagi, you've got to eat more. You're so skinny."

Blithely ignoring the slight color on the younger assassin's cheekbones and the faint tugging as the younger tried to subtly reclaim his hand, the outspoken German maintained a firm grip and went on examining the teenager like a slab of meat. "I think you should also exercise more – put more muscle on your flesh. Don't think I've not noticed how much you rely on your telekinesis to compensate." 

Nagi could find no answer to that and finally nodded sullenly. "I can handle it, it sounds simple. In fact, I can start the packet capture program to run now and it should be done by the time we're back from dinner." 

He did Schwarz related-hacking on a different computer, seeing as how Esstet provided quite a generous budget for missions. That cutting edge – no, *bleeding* edge – computer was *not* kept in his bedroom; mainframes are so much bulkier and noisier than desktops. 

Schuldig grinned, a truly scary expression as canines flashed in a lopsided quirking of lips and green eyes glinted gleefully, and draped a muscled arm around the teenager's shoulders as they exited the bedroom. "All right! Off to the gym we'll go tomorrow!" 

Crawford's precognition must be catching because Nagi suddenly had an unnerving glimpse of the future, in particular a workout with a hyper redhead, and paled. _…I agreed to spending time with Schu… must have hit my head harder than I thought..._

**~**

"Ne.. Schu…" Too breathless to talk, Nagi projected a burst of desperation instead. ::Stop! My heart's going to burst! Schu!::

Shaking his head ruefully, the redhead slowed down and jogged back to the panting teenager. Both were dressed in running outfits and currently pounding one of the jogging trails in the park beside the expensive condominium Esstet put them up in. 

"You're out of shape kid," Schuldig complained. "Don't stop! C'mon, keep moving. Your legs are gonna cramp if you just stop." 

::Give me a break! It's only my third run with you!:: Nagi retorted mentally, still winded as he obeyed, now walking at a brisk pace. ::And I'm not that unfit. I was taught how to fight and all that.::

::Yeah, in the dojo but not out on the field. Very different, kid. When Bombay starts running after you with those little poisoned darts, you gonna ask him for timeout?::

Nagi did not answer, moody thoughts again on the loss of his gift. Schuldig fell silent as well; he had not wanted to bring up the sensitive topic again, but with a mission that night, the first since the young telekinetic's accident a week ago, he felt that the young assassin needed to accept his situation. 

It's been a week since Nagi got injured, and they had a new mission that night: locate a target, retrieve relevant files and kill him. It was a simple task – something they can easily fit in between the bodyguard jobs that were the main source of their substantial income – but the three older assassins were a little concerned for their youngest member. Nagi would be coming along as usual; his job was to erase all electronic records of the target, but though he was trained in firearms and hand-to-hand combat, his primary weapon was his telekinetic powers. All, including Nagi, wondered how he would fare without his telekinesis.

The pair were now walking side-by-side and thinking deeply, unaware of the astonished glances from passersby's; a tall gaijin whose flaming hair screamed for attention with and a slim Japanese boy with fine chocolate hair and elfin features. Though the caustic redhead often delighted in teasing and annoying the more introverted boy, living together settled both into an easy familiarity. 

The assassin team Schwarz was odd. The members could be considered dysfunctional by society and there were no shortage of personality clashes and problems initially. But against all prior expectations – even Crawford's, and he was the one who brought them together – they had meshed into a working team. No, not just a working team; they were one of the top teams Esset fielded, if not the best. 

The chill morning air quickly whisked away the sweat beading on their skin; it was only seven in the morning and though there were people up and moving at this time, some on their way to work, others out exercising like themselves, the city was still hushed and sleepy. 

::Sorry Nagi, but you've really got little actual battle experience. By that I mean actually getting close and dirty. I'm not putting you down intentionally or something but…:: Schuldig turned to look at his younger teammate. 

::I know, Schu… I know.:: Nagi shivered, his lips turning down in a bitter frown as he looked up at the other. 

::Ah, dammit mein Kleiner, I'm just worried for you, especially with the mission coming up tonight.:: To his surprise, the German swept him into a crushing hug. The redhead was as hot as his hair color; a veritable furnace, and after a momentary squeak of surprise, Nagi wrapped his arms around the taller man, muffling his face into the sweaty T-shirt. He didn't even mind the embarrassing nickname. 

Sometimes, Nagi wondered just how they managed to get along. Surrounded by hundreds of foreign thoughts, the telepath felt in danger of losing himself and thus acted mostly through feeling and instinct, not trusting the thoughts he could not always identify as his own.  Schuldig was exuberant and emotionally high-strung, highly rash and impulsive. In front of their targets and enemies, he could be mocking and cruel, sometimes angry, often amused, playing the role of a sadistic bastard to the hilt. But to his teammates, that taunting never got malicious and he cared for them in his own way, especially Nagi. 

Whereas the telekinetic could *not* afford to lose control – things happened when he did. Fragile stuff broke and things rattled when *he* was rattled. He hadn't really lost control before, but he knew he could literally bring down the house if he wanted. Self-control was a necessary skill that became a personality trait. 

Sometimes Nagi wondered what would happen when he had sex.  

To the outside world, he seemed far older than his fifteen years with his solemn face and iron control. It was only back in the penthouse, when he was alone with his teammates that he could relax, where the unusual talents of the other psychics helped keep his in check. While Crawford could not always foresee every event, he could generally circumvent major incidents and minimize damage. When he was in danger of losing control, Schuldig was somewhere in the back of his mind exerting a grounding presence. And if things got really out of hand, Schuldig could always take over his mind. He had never done that, they all hoped it would never come down to that, but it was reassuring to the telekinetic that there was a safety net. To his surprise, Nagi realized that he would trust Schuldig with his mind. 

Yet despite the difference in their personality, the Japanese teen and German man clicked. The telepath treated the young telekinetic as a brother he never had, something Nagi realized he often failed to appreciate when he was pissed at the German for his relentless teasing and pranks. 

::We all are. We're killers and evil, but we're not heartless – despite Bradley's best attempting at acting otherwise – and we do care for you.::

Nagi definitely realized and appreciated it now, a warm feeling in his chest as he simply held onto the telepath. ::Really?::

::Hey, I'm a telepath, remember? The best Esset has.:: Schuldig boasted. :;Brad may have the best shields I've encountered, but Mr. Perfect slips up once in a while too.:;

Nagi smiled wanly. He knew they all cared, but it was nice to be told so. ::But what if my telekinesis abilities are required tonight?::

::Then Brad would have seen it, right?::

Nagi couldn't help it; the stress of the past week finally caught up with him and he started giggling helplessly, his thin frame shaking against the telepath's. After a moment, Schuldig started laughing as well and the two clutched each other tightly, almost desperately. A rare moment for the usually cold, impassive members of Schwarz in the middle of a park. 

**~******

The mission was straightforward and simple. There was really no need for all four to be there, but Crawford thought it would be prudent for Nagi's first mission without his powers to be an easy one, and each of the three older assassins felt that they had better come along. Just in case. 

It was perhaps lucky the teenager did not realize just how his teammates kept hovering around him. As it was, he was fretting too much to notice anything else; feeling strangely naked and vulnerable without his powers. 

On the bright side, the low-grade throbbing that appeared to pound very softly, very dully at his frontal lobe for the past week was finally gone. It wasn't incapacitating but it had been irritating and distracting. Nagi felt momentarily grateful for small blessings as he opened his laptop, and then quickly bent back to his task.

He took down the security alarms in five minutes, Farfarello took down the front guards in the next five and once Schuldig made a mental sweep of the tall condominium block, they were heading up to the target's apartment. Their target that night was a wealthy lawyer by the name of Makumi Taikawa. His private apartments covered an entire floor of the building, which made their job easier. 

Again, they waited briefly as the young hacker overrode the alarm system in the apartment, and then they were in. Nagi shook his head as they entered the living room, casting a disdainful eye over the priceless artworks that lined the walls. "He's an idiot who would rather spend money on useless paintings than better security." 

Farfarello paused, peering up at an abstract painting in gold, black and red admiringly. "Ye are a brilliant kid, but perhaps lacking in a classical education."  

Schuldig muffled a snort.

"Looks like a Modigliani." Crawford said with a straight face.  

Nagi eyeballed the monstrosity flatly. "No shit."

Schuldig couldn't help the bark of laughter and quickly clasped a gloved fist over his mouth.

Farfarello smiled, hand on chin thoughtfully as he regarded the painting critically from another angle. "Beautiful. Truly a masterpiece." And then he grinned and calmly slashed the canvas diagonally with his needle. 

Schuldig had collapsed on the couch by now, hysterical snickers muffled by the lush leather. Even Crawford had a tiny smile on his lips as he made himself comfortable on the other couch. There were some privileges with being the alpha male after all, and one of them included being comfortable on the target's couch while underlings did the menial work. 

Nagi glowered at everyone else on principle, and then stalked off to look for the study while Farfarello and Schuldig followed a step behind, though the room Farfarello was looking for was the target's bedroom. 

"Try not to get blood on yourself, Farf." Schuldig called out as he followed Nagi into the study. "Blood's a bitch to remove from leather."

Nagi ignored Schuldig's amused mutterings as the telepath prowled the study, seating himself at the heavy desk. He had lifted the target's encrypted password from his packet-sniffing program and cracked it at home. He could have copied the files remotely, but console access was much faster and he wanted to erase the files as well. Taking out a small stick – advancement in memory disks was so rapid these days – Nagi quickly transferred the files. 

While the computer was copying the files over, the two assassins rifled through the desk and bookshelf, checking for any printed records. Anything that looked interesting or relevant was stuffed into a large leather case, and everything else went into the wastepaper bin. 

"I just love breaking into rich homes," Schuldig smirked as he took out his lighter and set the papers in the large metal bin alight. "They're such thoughtful hosts, so many delightful toys. Also, burning plastic smells." 

"They usually have quality computers too. Makes my work easier." Nagi turned back to the computer with a grin and removed the memory stick. A simple recursive delete command – at the root directory – erased the hard drive, and then producing a small screwdriver from a pocket in his coat, he removed the computer casing. "And only one hard disk here. Lousy security but it makes my job easier." 

Yanking out a component, he replaced his screwdriver and took out a small automatic from another of his numerous small pockets. It was one of Crawford's and the older man had insisted that he keep it on him that night. Nagi scowled bitterly as he placed a bullet through the hard drive, where previously, he would have crushed it with a thought. _Guess I'll have to get use to using firearms from now on. _

"Isn't that overkill?" Schuldig raised a brow, looking up from a paperback with a cheesy picture of a well-built man carrying a very well endowed woman and some German words on the cover. The man had flaming red hair.

"Just because the hard disk is erased doesn't mean data can't be recovered from it." Nagi smirked as he pocketed his gun. "I can do it."

"Not everybody is the precocious computer genius that you are, Prodigy." 

"Schuldig, Nagi." Crawford suddenly appeared in the doorway, his expression serious. "Get Farf and let's go. Weiss is on their way here."  

"We're done." Schuldig nodded as he picked up the leather case, discretely tucking the novel in before zipping the satchel. "Do you know how close they are?"

"Five to ten minutes." Crawford frowned again as another vision struck him. "Schuldig, be careful of Siberian." 

"Why?" 

"I can't See exactly why. I See him tackling you and glass breaking, but that's it." The precognitive's frown deepened; he hated not knowing. His visions were accurate and short, but sometimes they were vague or the scenario shown was not the important scene. Often though, they were good enough to warn of upcoming danger, a very valuable ability in a line as dangerous as theirs, even if the accuracy drops and distorts exponentially with the time of the event.  

Sometimes he wished he had better control over his own gift, but prescience was very different from telepathy and telekinesis. His gift was powerful enough that he could maintain some control of the people, or the locus, he wanted to focus on but often, he was only given a privileged glimpse into the crazed and tangled skeins of time that swirled around them. 

A blink. Another glimpse. "Balinese is somehow involved too. Just be on your guard."

"Ch." Schuldig made a dismissive noise. "Those kittens are no match for me." 

"I didn't have much fun. Makumi cried more than his whore and _wetted _the carpet, that wuss." Farfarello came out from the bedroom at the telepath's mental call, licking his bloodstained knife, a disdainful sneer on bloodied carmine lips. "We play with Weiss now?" 

"No," Crawford ordered sharply. "Our mission tonight has nothing to do with them, and their survival is somehow important and linked to our future. Do not kill any of them."

"We'll just hurt them slightly," Schuldig wheedled. Farfarello grinned in agreement, holding his knife loosely by his side. 

"No." Crawford repeated firmly. Whatever else he might have planned to say was lost as another vision hit him, his eyes losing focus for a second. "Bombay has discovered the downed security systems." 

"Elevator or stairs?" Nagi asked coolly. Inwardly though, he was as nervous as he had been on his first mission. He had never shot anyone before… He always had his telekinetic gifts. Though he didn't blink at the things they did, he wasn't really a killer; preferring instead to let Farfarfello or Schuldig do the actual killing. Gritting his jaw, he steeled himself. _It's them or us. Don't freeze up._

"No time, they're coming up the stairwell." Schuldig's eyes narrowed in concentration. 

And then suddenly the door, previously left unlocked, was flung open. Weiss's redheaded leader burst in with his katana raised and his familiar battle cry of "Shi-ne!" 

Nagi scrambled back out of the way as Farfarello leapt forward to meet the down swung blade. The other Weiss assassins ran in right after, yelling. 

"Schwarz! What are you doing here?" 

"Doing your job for you," Schuldig grinned, easily picking up the details of their mission from their minds. "You should be thanking us." 

Dismay and chagrin flickered across the three Weiss assassins' expressions – Abyssinian was too busy with Farfarello to hear anything else – before hatred and determination settled. Nagi didn't need Schuldig's telepathy to know what they were thinking: 'mission parameters changed. Get Schwarz.'

Turning his head wildly from side to side, he saw that Schuldig had already engaged Balinese, while Crawford was busy with Siberian. 

_That left... Where's Bombay?_

Seeing a flash of white, Nagi raised his automatic and fired off a couple of rounds. The youngest Weiss assassin gave a cry and rolled behind the couch. After a moment's hesitation, Nagi dived behind one of the big armchairs as well, knowing that he didn't have his telekinetic shield. 

_Shit… this is harder than I expected. I don't think I got him. I hope he doesn't realize that I'm not using my powers, but it won't take him long. He's not dumb. I'm no good at hand-to-hand combat, not that it would help here. Bombay uses projectile weapons… What now? We hide behind the couch and take pot shots at each other?_

Grabbing a throw cushion, he flung it out and an arrow immediately buried itself in the unfortunate cushion. _Shit, and he has better aim than me too._

Nagi tensed, mind racing as to his next course of action when suddenly, he heard the twang of a bowstring again. From his vantage point, he watched in horror as the arrow flew towards Crawford's unprotected back. 

"Brad!" 

To his immense relief, the American clairvoyant ducked at the last second and the arrow zipped harmlessly past his left shoulder. Either he had heard Nagi's cry or he had been warned by a vision. Balinese jerked to the opposite side to avoid the arrow, both fighters rolling to opposite sides of the room. In that stunned lull, all four parties heard the spat curses and turned. 

Siberian had spun his wire out but was no match for Schuldig's speed; instead, his own wire was now tangled around his shoulders and upper arms, effectively trapping him. The tall German telepath was grinning nastily as he tugged, wire wrapped around his closed fists. The action pulled the wire tighter and the blond Weiss assassin gave another pained curse as he struggled. It was obvious that Schuldig wasn't seriously trying to kill him, but only toying with him insultingly. 

"Yohji!" Balinese gave an angry growl and charged across the living room. "Bastard!" 

Schuldig turned his head at the enraged cry, eyes widening in shock but he couldn't step back in time before he was caught in a flying tackle. Everything seemed to slow down; Nagi could see the telepath stumbling back, the brawny brown-haired Weiss assassin still crouched low as he carried through with his powerful tackle. The lanky redhead fell back again the large window with a yelp, shattering it. 

Raising his gun and firing recklessly, Nagi sprinted towards the two. A bullet clipped Balinese on the shoulder and he faltered, crumbling to the ground and clutching his shoulder. But the worst was done. Carried by the momentum, Schuldig fell out of the broken window.

"_Schu_!"

Nagi dropped his gun and leaned over the window, unheeding of the jagged glass that dug into his stomach as he flung both hands out and grabbed… 

…at empty air. 

"Schu~ldig!" 

Nagi could see the redhead's wide eyes as he fell, further and further down. He could hear the telepath's gravelly baritone and he could do *absolutely* nothing.

::Sorry Nagi, sorry…::

No! He can't just lose Schuldig! Purely by instinct and habit, Nagi *reached* deep within him. Only to smash straight against that cursed blank wall again. 

_Nooo!_

He could see Schuldig's frightened eyes and at the same time, he could *see* that wall. Panic and fear ripped through him, the raw emotions abruptly fueling his strength and he hammered at that wall, screaming. The wall began to crack.

::I guess this is it, huh kid?:: Schuldig continue to fall, eyes closing, a sad smile on his lips. ::Know what?:: 

The other assassins in the room stopped fighting in their shock, and even Farfarello and Aya Fujimiya were still. Nagi was screaming, an anguished wild sound. A very faint but familiar bluish white glow started around him, zephyr whispers lifting the ends of his fine hair. 

Crawford held his breath in trepidation; he had no visions at all, no idea how this would turn out. Farfarello had slipped out from his bloodlust, stunned and smiling, whispering under his breath. "Aye Nagi, I know ye had it in ye all along."  

Nagi pushed harder, his pounding getting more and more frantic.

::Love ya, Nagi.::

The wall shattered.   

Tumbling headlong into a silvery pool, he deftly caught himself from years of training and *pulled*. 

He saw the figure jerk limply as if caught by a giant hand, gasping in shock. The force required to stop the redhead's freefall was tremendous but the teenager hung on tightly, wrapping his precious burden more securely and gently pulled him up. However, once the initial shock was over, the rest was easy to a telekinetic who could fling grown men about easily.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, he was grinning happily and crowing in delight, splashing wildly in that pool of moonlight. The familiar rush of his power filled him and more. He *never* felt this way before; so much power, cool and fiery, trickling through his cupped hands and tickling at his senses.  

When he felt his hands grip something warm and very solid, he blinked in surprise and saw a familiar grin in front of him, emerald eyes sparkling with pride and joy and relief. He pushed the difference in his power to the back of his mind to analyze further at a later time, concentrating instead on the telepath in front of him. Carefully, he set the redheaded German down and finally released his power. 

"Schuldig!" Nagi threw his arms around the taller man, almost sobbing in relief. 

::You're embarrassing me kid.:: The telepath complained, but returned his hug tightly as well. 

The touching moment was broken by a growl. "Schwarz!" 

Nagi dropped his arms immediately, whipping around with a scowl. Abyssinian had his blade held out warily in front of him, stance firm and battle-ready, his eyes flickering between Schuldig, Nagi and Farfarello. The Irish had lowered his knife in the confusion, but at the Weiss leader's challenge, raised his own blade threateningly again with a keening growl of his own. 

And suddenly, the teenage telekinetic had enough. The stress of the week and the adrenaline rush of the night caught up and crashed right on top of him. He felt exhausted, mentally and physically, and wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed. The mission was done and it had been simple, but those stupid Weiss twits had to come along. Schwarz had made it clear that they weren't out for a fight that night but still those idiots persisted in attacking them, when they were nowhere in their league. 

_Idiots! Goddamn fucking stick-up-..no, TREE-up-their-ass stinking hypocritical morons!_

Schuldig started at the testy thoughts the telekinetic was practically projecting, and then he smirked darkly. Stepping back, he threw the other members of Schwarz a mental equivalent of an expectant wink as he threw their shared link wide open. Crawford was still stunned by the vulgarity that was running through the youngest assassin's head and Farfarello almost dropped his knife laughing.    

"IDIOTS!" 

The bluish-white glow flared up around the telekinetic again, phantom winds ruffling at his fine dark chocolate hair as he thrust his palms away. 

"We AREN'T out to kill you tonight and if we were, you would DEFINITELY know!"

Heavy couches and sturdy coffee tables in the living room were pushed back only by the force of his mind, the carpet curling up and fluttering away. Books, papers and cushions flew around wildly and the Weiss assassins were slammed back into the walls with simultaneous muffled thumps. 

All these took perhaps two seconds, or three rapid eye blinks. Nagi tossed his head and stalked towards the main door, muttering peevishly under his breath. The Weiss team was either knocked unconscious or stunned, but either way, they didn't utter any sound. 

"Well, see you around Weiss. Have a good day." Crawford was the first to recover, smirking as he pushed up his glasses and strode off after their youngest member. 

"It's way past Nagi-kun's bedtime, you see," Schuldig snickered as he swept out after the Schwarz leader, smoothing his flyaway carrot hair back under the ever-present bandana.

Farfarello did not say anything as he brought up the rear of the smirking procession, his knife twirling idly. The gleam in his amber eye spoke volumes. Mostly insulting.         

Nagi was already waiting impatiently in the elevator when the other three got to the lobby, ire rapidly fading from his face as a sheepish one took its place. He had thrown a rather spectacular teenage tantrum after all. 

Schuldig stepped beside him, smirk widening as he ruffled the fine coffee brown locks. "Good work, Nagi." His grin was almost unbearable in its smugness, but there was a hint of dazed wonder in his eyes as well, as if he couldn't believe that someone would care all that much about him. 

"So you got your power back," Crawford said blandly. 

"Hai. When I saw Schu falling, I just knew that I…" Nagi ducked his head, his voice trailing off to a whisper, a faint flush of embarrassment on his cheeks at the previous show of emotion; he who had always prided himself on his control.  "..had to…" 

::I'm touched, Nagi.:: The voice in his mind was a faint whisper as well, the owner also unused to displaying open affection. 

"Did you See this, Brad?" Schuldig asked.

"No," Crawford muttered in annoyance. It was ironical that he was fastidious about control in his life, almost to the point of anal paranoia, and yet his powers, the one edge over his opponents that always enabled him to come out just a little ahead, was random. And in a circular twist, it was this unpredictable ability that gave him the means to maintain the control he liked. 

"Good." 

"Why?" Farfarello asked mildly. 

"Because if you *had* Seen me fall, *and* you did not say anything, I would be forced to hurt you very badly," Schuldig replied steadily, an edge in his voice. Then he sighed and slung an arm comfortably around Nagi's tensed shoulders. "But this is part of our job and everything did turn out all right. So kid, are you really tired?"

"Um…" Nagi blinked as he did a quick assessment of himself. "N..no, not really."

"All right! Let's go out to celebrate the return of your powers kid!" Schuldig cheered. "Brad's treat." 

**~*~**


End file.
